


Dirigible Plums

by cait_stewart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Dom/sub Undertones, Farting, I didn't know I was pregnant, Impregnation, Inflated Belly, Inflation, Light Sadism, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mpreg, Secret pregnancy, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teenage Pregnancy, belly inflation, gassy - Freeform, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 07:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17824292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cait_stewart/pseuds/cait_stewart
Summary: Dirigible means blimp, Tom.





	1. Chapter 1

Tom looked very uncomfortable, which meant that he probably had gone and actually followed Albus's advice. Albus, delighted, worked very hard to keep a straight face throughout the lesson.

“Master Riddle, if you don't mind – a word,” he said, as the other students filed out of the classroom. Tom glared at him from behind his desk. Albus grinned as he walked up to him. 

“You knew perfectly well what was going to happen to me,” said Tom, coolly. “You did it on purpose.” 

“Let me see.” 

“You're a pervert, sir,” said Tom, stifling a small burp. Albus didn't deny the accusation. 

“Let me see or I shall have to send you to the nurse,” he threatened politely, playing with his wand. 

Tom sighed. 

“Not here,” he said, wincing slightly as he pressed a pale hand to the front of his robes. “In your office.” 

§ 

“So, how many did you eat?” 

“A dozen,” said Tom, locking Albus's door behind him. Albus turned around, shocked. 

“A dozen?” he repeated, equal parts thrilled and terrified. “All at once?” 

“I wanted the fullest effect,” explained Tom, lowering himself gingerly onto Albus's sofa. “ _Mental acuity_ , you promised. I had actually set out to eat fifteen of them, but I couldn't go through with the plan.” 

“I bet,” said Albus, his cock stirring at the idea of the effect that such a huge quantity of Dirigible Plums would have on Tom's system. “Enough with the teasing, Tom. Show me.” 

Tom looked up, a cruel glint in his dark eyes. 

“I don't know, _Professor_ ,” he said, smoothing his heavy robes over the concealed object of Albus's obsession. “What do I get in exchange?” 

Albus grinned. 

“You're impossible,” he said, cock heavy and pulsing inside his trousers. “How about a couple of signed permission slips for the Restricted Section?” 

“Five,” said Tom, his long legs splayed to accomodate his condition. “At the very least.” 

“All right, but take off your clothes, quick.” 

“Deal,” said Tom, and he started undoing his robes. The effect of the Plums was immediately evident even through his shirt and cardigan, and Albus nearly came in his pants then and there. 

Tom paused. 

“It's still getting bigger,” he remarked, running his hands over his hugely bloated stomach. “My shirt buttoned fine this morning.” 

“It generally reaches its peak about a day from the moment of ingestion,” explained Albus. “Both the mental acuity and the... the other effect. And then of course you have to allow another few hours for the, er, expulsion phase.” 

Tom rolled his eyes. 

“Looking forward to that,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Diamonds of pale, overstreched skin were visible through the gaps between the buttons of his shirt. “And the other boys in my dormitory, too! I bet they'll be thrilled.” 

“You can spend the night here,” suggested Albus, his mouth dry with desire. “I'll let you have my bed.” 

“You get off on _that_ , too?” said Tom, incredulously. “Very well, I'll stay here until this thing has gone down properly. In exchange, I want ten permission slips.” 

“Whatever you want,” promised Albus. “Just take off your shirt already, you bloody tease.” 

Tom's overinflated belly looked preposterous in the bright morning light of Albus's office, jutting out from beneath the young man's lean chest and swelling hugely over his lap. Tom rapped his fingers demonstratively on the tight surface: it sounded hollow, like a drum. Albus licked his lips. 

“Get up,” he ordered. “I want to see you properly.” 

Tom, for once in his life, obeyed promptly. On his feet, shirtless as he was, he genuinely looked pregnant. Albus embraced him from behind, his erection pressed against the young man's backside, exploring his swollen form hungrily with his hands. Tom's belly groaned and creaked audibly. 

“Here,” said Tom, in a pained voice, guiding Albus's hands to the distended underside of his gut. “Rub it. It hurts.” 

Albus obliged, pressing his palm into his pupil's bloated organ to try and work some of the gas out of his cramped insides. Tom moaned. 

“Lower,” he pleaded, rubbing himself against Albus's painfully hard cock. “Please.” 

Albus undid Tom's trousers, freeing his erection. With one hand still on his inflated stomach, he grabbed the young man by his cock and guided him to a mirror, so that he could admire the results of his ruse: Tom Riddle, trousers around his ankles, belly so full of air that he could barely function, begging to be brought to orgasm. His knees felt weak. 

“You look incredible like this, Tom,” he said, meeting Tom's eyes in the mirror. “Do you know that?” 

“I'm huge,” moaned Tom, rubbing his gigantic stomach. “You've made me huge.” 

“I did,” confirmed Albus, stroking Tom's cock. “And you're going to get even bigger, just you wait.” 

Tom moaned again. For all his earlier protests, he seemed to be greatly enjoying this particular activity. Albus intensified the pace of his stroking. 

“Imagine you're pregnant, Tom,” he whispered, supporting Tom's swollen stomach with his free hand. “Imagine having to hide this huge thing from all your mates, day after day.” 

“I wouldn't let you do that to me,” mumbled Tom, unconvincingly, pressing himself harder against Albus erection. “I wouldn't let you get me pregnant, sir.” 

“I think you would, actually,” said Albus, bending slightly to kiss Tom's neck. “You'd let me fill you up with my babies, Tom, and you would love every minute of it.” 

“Hhhng,” moaned Tom, spurting all over Albus's hand and the bottom of his own belly. Albus held him close to his chest, delighted by the look of bliss on the young man's handsome face. 

“Excellent work, Master Riddle,” he said, patting Tom's bloated belly. “Now come to bed, it's my turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Some, like Xenophilius Lovegood, believe dirigible plums enhance the ability of one to accept the extraordinary."
> 
> What do you say, should young Riddle actually end up pregnant?


	2. Chapter 2

Tom groaned and let out a resounding fart. His belly, although much smaller than it had been just a couple of hours earlier, was still massively bloated, enough to visibly tent Albus's bedsheets.

“Remind me never to listen to you again,” he said, leaning back against his pillow. “This bloody thing is going to keep me up all night.” 

Albus faked a yawn. 

“Not necessarily,” he said, patting the young man's tantalizingly distended abdomen. “You could take a sleeping potion and let things settle on their own.” 

Tom farted again. 

“I don't think I trust your potions.” 

Albus shrugged. 

“Suit yourself,” he said, with a hint of a smirk. 

§ 

The sleeping potion Tom ended up accepting was the strongest in Albus's personal reserve, powerful enough to guarantee the exhausted pupil a full, uninterrupted night of sleep in spite of any potential disturbance. Once he had fallen asleep, Albus wasted no time setting his plan into motion. 

The incantation was an ancient one, complicated even for a wizard as skilled as he was. The glorious spectacle of Tom's naked, inflated form provided an additional, if welcome, distraction. 

_What I wouldn't give to fuck you now..._ he thought, gently prying Tom's legs apart to look at his pristine, virginal hole. But he mustn't. He knew he mustn't. He wanted the young man to ask for it, to _beg_ , even – and besides, time was scarce, and he had a very important task to attend to before dawn. 

§ 

In the morning Tom's stomach was back to its usual state, if a bit sore. 

“Did I keep you up all night?” he asked, alluding the bags under Albus's eyes. “Suits you well.” 

“Get dressed, Tom,” said Albus, deliberately cold. “And get out of here, I have a class to teach in half an hour.” 

Tom looked taken aback. 

“All right,” he said, gathering his things. “No need to tell me twice.” 

§ 

Ignoring Tom – and the progressively outrageous ways in which the young man tried to get his professor's attention – was both hard and entertaining. For a full three weeks, Albus managed to remain ostensibly insensible to everything his pupil threw his way, be it bouts of appalling behaviour or transparent attempts at renewed seduction. Tom, he could tell, was growing more and more frustrated – which meant that Albus's plan was working exactly as intended. 

“Professor,” said Tom, in a coquettish tone that Albus had never suspected him to be capable of. “Can I talk to you?” 

“What's the matter, Master Riddle?” asked Albus, without looking up from the exam papers he had just collected. The empty classroom was warm in the hot June sunlight, but out of the corner of his eyes he could see that Tom was wearing his heavy robes. The notion thrilled him. 

Tom stepped closer to Albus's desk. 

“It's my stomach, sir,” he said, in a low voice that went directly to Albus's cock. “It's been bothering me.” 

§ 

“You ate the rest of the Dirigible Plums, didn't you?” said Albus, carefully pressing into the naked surface of Tom's teardrop shaped belly. “There's nothing wrong with you, you're just full of air.” 

“I did,” admitted Tom, smiling seductively from Albus's sofa. He was pushing his stomach out, Albus noticed, and arching his back. “I knew you'd get a kick out of it, sir.” 

“But what about you, Tom?” said Albus, letting his hand stray lower. “Have you perhaps grown to enjoy the whole thing as well?” 

“I've been thinking, sir,” said Tom, eluding the question. His dick was hard inside his trousers. “About something we've never gotten around to trying.” 

“And what would that be, Tom?” said Albus, rubbing the young man's erection through the fabric. “Tell me.” 

§ 

“I've been dreaming about this, sir,” sighed Tom, on all fours, in a tone so unlike his usual aloof one that Albus briefly wondered if the whole thing was actually happening or was just a dream. “I want to feel you inside me.” 

“I hope you realize we're crossing a line here, Tom,” said Albus, trying to actually sound concerned while he carefully lined up his erection with Tom's eager hole. “And I dread the thought of what you're going to ask in return.” 

“Nothing!” moaned Tom, wriggling his narrow hips. “Nothing, sir, I promise. I just want – I just _need_ to get fucked, please.” 

“Very well,” said Albus, grinning triumphantly, and he pushed in. 

§ 

“That was glorious,” said Tom, contentendly, vanishing the gobs of come he'd spurted on the underside of his inflated stomach. “I never knew it'd be so enjoyable.” 

“You are very good at this, Tom,” said Albus, brushing the young man's fringe away from his sweaty brow. “You're a natural.” 

Tom smiled – a very unusual sight, completely different from his normal smirk. 

“Can I stay here until my belly gets down? I don't like the idea of, ah, having to fart in front of the other boys.” 

“Surely it's happened before,” teased Albus, caressing Tom's bloated stomach. “In all these years.” 

“Not on this scale,” replied Tom, and he had a point – his belly was nowhere as large as it had been on the night he'd first tried the Plums, but Albus could still feel huge, noisy bubbles of gas moving under his skin, probably on account of the residual Plums having overripened in the meanwhile. A sudden, unpleasant thought occurred to him. 

“Do you think you could hold it in?” he asked, casually, trying to calculate how long it would take for the sperm he'd spurted into Tom's ass to do its job. “Until tomorrow?” 

Tom grinned faintly. 

“You really like the belly on me, don't you, sir?” 

“I do,” confirmed Albus, rubbing the inflated swell possessively. “I really do, Tom.” 

§ 

Tom squatted in the corner of Albus's room, his normally pale face red and sweaty, his naked belly swollen between his legs. Every few seconds, he let out a groan: he was having terrible gas pains, enough to shatter his usual composure. Albus felt quite guilty about enjoying the spectacle as much as he was. 

“Can I let it out, sir?” pleaded Tom, sounding miserable. “My stomach hurts terribly.” 

“Wait a few more minutes, Tom,” said Albus from the bed. “You just need to relax and wait for the potion to work.” 

“If you said so,” said Tom, through gritted teeth. It had been a few hours, most of them spent with Tom safely on his back, which meant that Albus's sperm had probably already had time to travel to its destination – but Tom's initial willingness to hold his gas in for the sake of catering to Albus's erotic predilections had simply been too delightful to pass on, so he had offered him a numbing potion instead, accompanied by the promise of another thorough shag if he made it to the dawn with his belly still fully bloated. Tom, Albus knew, was starting to regret the deal. 

“Come here,” he said, patting the mattress. “You're making it harder on yourself by squatting.” 

Tom dragged himself to the bed, one hand supporting his teardrop-shaped stomach. A small fart squeaked out of him as he climbed on top of the mattress. He winced. 

“I'm sorry,” he said, glancing sideways at Albus. “It's beyond my control.” 

“Don't worry, Tom” said Albus, with a grin, producing a small plug out of thin air. “I have something here to help you win your wager.” 

Tom, against his better judgement, moaned his assent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for next chapter, featuring Tom's return to Hogwarts in September.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dirigible Plums (alternate version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17900165) by [cait_stewart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cait_stewart/pseuds/cait_stewart)




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